Ghost Time

because my palms were sweaty. I don’t know where the words came from, but all I could think was, Finally! It’s beginning—my life’s finally beginning!

THURSDAY, JUNE 9, 2011
    (TEN WEEKS LATER)
    7:02 PM
    I made it to the end of the block, and then I stopped and hid behind empty trash and recycling cans, thinking I was going to be sick. I expected… I expected Karen to tell me it was insane, it was a lie, both. She didn’t. Because it wasn’t—it was insane, but it wasn’t a lie, and I got dizzy for a second, had to bend forward, taking deep breaths before I could stand again.
    I didn’t know where to go, and I couldn’t go home, I just couldn’t. So I started walking to Silver Top, and halfway there, I got a text. From Jenna Darnell. She said she had something she very much wanted to show me, alone; it would only take a minute. I told her to meet me in ten minutes. I didn’t even care anymore: What, another sex tape? Another fantasy? Another dream for the whole world to see? I couldn’t feel anything, my whole body was buzzing, inside, outside. Seemed as good a time as any to see whatever it was, this breaking news.
    She came alone. She had one of her news suits on, camera-ready. The Elders stopped talking, soon as she walked in, and she said hello. I don’t know if they greeted her or what, but she didn’t waste any time, either, sliding into the bench. We’re running a story tonight, and I wanted you to see it first, she said, pulling out her computer, pressing a key. The bus depot, the school bus garage—every bus in our entire school district was tagged. Every single bus in the fleet was tagged, she said, showing me individual photos that she took or one of her camera guys took. It looked like gibberish, if you just read a few of the words on each different bus. But it looked familiar, too, even though I couldn’t put it together right away. Not yet, she said, watching the buses pull out, fall into formation. Still nothing, just a dozen buses with white big black tags, a few letters, exclamation points, and then she pressed another key. I was getting impatient, like, whatever. Wait, she said. Now look here, she said, pulling up video from the camera in front of the high school. This was just this morning, she said, and then she hit play, so you see all the buses pulling in front of the high school, weaving in and out, and then, snap! She hit pause. And you could read the billboard the twelve buses made. You could read the gibberish, now that they were all lined up, it was a page from Hubble. Each bus had a few words, but together, in tableaux, you could read an entire paragraph from our notebook, what I wrote to Cam.
    It was my handwriting, it was exactly what I wrote him the day my dad showed up at our house: I wish you could see my face now. Every day, I wish you could feel what I feel, even though I know you can’t. And you couldn’t yesterday, or the day before that, or last week, and chances are, you won’t feel what I feel tomorrow or the next day, either. But I still can’t stop wishing that you could. So what is it, chemical? Really, is hope just another chemical? I don’t know, I really don’t. Whatever.
    I didn’t say a word. I just stared, biting the inside of my cheek as hard as I could without showing it. It’s almost as though it was torn from a girl’s diary, Jenna said. No, I said, and she looked at me. You don’t think so? she asked, and I said, No. Meaning no comment. I’m not supposed to talk to reporters, I said, doctor’s and lawyer’s orders. She looked away, scratching her temple, seeing her plan didn’t work. She nodded, sliding out of the booth, grabbing her computer. Well, I’ll e-mail you a copy of the still, if you like. I wanted it, and then, on second thought, I said, That’s not necessary, but thanks. She smiled, All right, then. Good to see you, Thea. You, too, Ms. Darnell, I said, and I looked away. I waited until the bell over the front door rang, and then I slid across the booth and rested my head against the front window. I ducked down, so the Elders wouldn’t see me crying, while hoping, if Cam was out there, he could see me now, and I closed my eyes, thinking, Nice trick. I’m touched, really. And I know you’re out there, watching me. But the thing is, how do I trust you if I don’t even know who you really are? The person I loved, he never really existed, did he?
    I felt so betrayed. I can’t even put it into words, how that felt,